


Like Honey.  1/1.

by punky_96



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Food Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 16:41:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14898192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punky_96/pseuds/punky_96
Summary: Re-post from LJ.Summary: Andy doesn’t give in to Miranda’s demands for Paris and helps Emily.Prompt KB: food





	Like Honey.  1/1.

**_Like Honey_**  
  
She was the ultimate ugly duckling. Awkward in the water, feathers so unlike everyone else, and absolutely no edge to her. She was the sweet, ugly, fat, smart girl and Miranda liked her. The ugly duckling got to swim in the pond and had her day to prove herself. I hated her from the moment she said her first words and I picked at her for her very existence. Would that I had known then she was an ugly duckling instead of just ugly. Maybe I would have acted differently. Had I known that a swan would have been revealed, perhaps I would have been a little less harsh.  
  
I was jealous from the moment Miranda told me to send her in.  
  
I was green with envy the moment Miranda dispatched me to retrieve her.  
  
I was livid when Nigel took her under his wing.  
  
I hated them all because I hated myself.  
  
I had become this person that I didn’t recognize and she was the mirror before my face showing me how far I had fallen from my true self. I loved fashion as a girl and devoured  Runway. My head was constantly full of models wearing the latest designs I had created for them. The flash of the camera had been to capture my magnificence in person and creation. I came to the States to achieve my dreams and I beat out all the other girls that would kill for this job—this chance.  
  
I let it ruin me though.  
  
She showed it to me in an instant and I hated her for it.  
  
Then I watched as she suffered and I enjoyed the fact that this was not easy for her like so many other things in her life surely had been. At the same time, I waged war inside myself constantly disgusted: with my own shortcomings, with my tendency to help the silly girl, and that as far as I had come I hadn’t pushed hard enough. I fought the urge to like her but couldn’t bring myself to give her fake directions about delivering the book. I grudgingly admitted I was thankful that she was at the benefit, although all I gave her was my cold. I was First Assistant to Miranda Priestly and I was not to be trifled with. Furthermore, I did not have time to be enamored on some fashion disaster that with Nigel’s help showed herself to be a swan instead of an ugly duckling.  
  
That was the main source of my conflict: I was enamored.  
  
When she told me about Paris, I thought I could finally just hate her.  
  
“Miranda wanted me to tell you…” She smiled weakly at me then. It was so sweet that it made me sick. “Before you got hit that was what…” She shook her head stepping closer to me. “She wanted me to tell you she was taking me to Paris.” She had looked at me sadly.   
  
I narrowed my eyes at her angrily trying to open the Jell-O cup. “Get. Out. Of. Here.” I spat out as I struggled to open the pullback lid. Not only had she taken my trip and Miranda’s favor, but she had landed me in the hospital for weeks. Oh, she hadn’t been on the street with me or behind the wheel of that cab, but it was her fault.  
  
It had to be. It had to all be her fault because I sure as hell didn’t want it to be mine. I had worked too hard to get this close to my dreams and she was taking them away. True I had fallen into some kind of stupor until she came along, but this was her fault as clear as day.  
  
Calmly she reached out her hand to mine and stilled it. I slapped her hand. “What are you doing?” I screamed at her.  
  
She sighed. I could tell she was tired but there was no way in hell that I was going to feel sorry for her. She arched an eyebrow at me and settled her fingers between mine on the Jell-O cup. I was so astonished that I let it slip out of my hands.  
  
“I told her to tell you herself or fuck off.” She peeled open the Jell-O I had been fighting with and flashed the most beatific, innocent, Ohio girl smile at me that I ever did see.  
  
I sputtered for words. She giggled and sat right on the edge of my bed.  
  
She took the yellow plastic spork and dug into the green Jell-O. Raised spoon with wiggling heap of green gelatin, she added. “I like you too much, Em.” She slid the spoonful of Jell-O into my shocked gob and I nearly choked myself to death.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
Home after a few days, with Andy taking care of me, I realized that I wouldn’t have rather been anywhere else. Paris had nothing on the loving care that being stuck at home with a beautiful swan had. I was taken by surprise in all of this, but I should have known. I should have realized my instant desire to hate her came from something else entirely. It was like grade school with Dorothy Wright. We had become inseparable but not before several incidents of hair pulling and an incident of clawing that drew blood. Out on medical leave now, I had some time to adjust.  
  
Andy had been going through the changes that I had gone through, only she had fought against them. She realized it was rash to have told Miranda to fuck off before fashion week. I still had to hold my heart when I thought of the scene, but she felt that she had done the right thing no matter the outcome. Her relationship with Nate was over. He had insinuated that she was in a relationship with Miranda because she ruled her life and while that wasn’t true it had gotten her to think about whom she did spend her time with and whom she wanted to spend her time with. No matter how she looked at it—she didn’t want to spend her time with him, and she didn’t want to make a career out of being Miranda’s go-to girl.  
  
We commiserated and shared stories. At night she snuggled under the covers and I was warm in a way that Dorothy Wright had never made me. She introduced me to the world of carbs to which I was divided upon being thankful and hating her because now I knew what I was missing. I certainly didn’t need to be fed, but Andy always seemed to find a way to share a bite or two of what she was eating with me. I liked the taste of myself on her lips the most and I told her so one night.   
  
Days later she came home from that crappy job at the  _Mirror_ with a small white box tied with a string. Having crawled into bed already I was naked. She slowly undressed at the bedside as she talked to me. “All day long I’ve been thinking about you.” She eased her pants down her long legs and stepped out of them. “I swear I could feel you against my tongue no matter what I was doing today.” She unbuttoned her buttons as I looked up at her. The little white box sat on the bedside table ignored. I was intrigued but Andy’s body would win every time I had to make a decision about what to look at. “We interviewed the kid today—the one that won the national spelling bee. Remember him?” She let her bra fall to the ground with a quiet swish. I nodded but did not say anything as I watched her rosy nipples harden now that they had swung free. “He’s Greek.” Andy stepped out of her panties and pulled the duvet back revealing my nakedness.  
  
A zing of anticipation shook my body along with the contrast of the cooler room air on my skin and her warm body settling over mine. That first moment of connection always did things to me. My nerve endings all stood at attention and my body thirstily soaked up every sensation of her—the scent of her perfume, the feel of her skin, the tone of her voice, and the beauty of her face. With her I was ‘Em,’ and I had decided in the weeks that we’ve come to really know each other that I liked being ‘Em.’  
  
She pushed herself up so that she was still lying on my body but propped up to look at me. I wanted to protest. I was happy with her against me and would have gladly cuddled the night away. Falling asleep in her arms was like nothing I had ever experienced. I knew that she wanted more, needed it.  
  
“We had lunch at their family restaurant and all I could think of was you.” Andy groaned as I leaned up and caught her lips in a kiss. I pulled away letting my teeth nibble against her bottom lip. Andy pushed herself all the way up so that she was sitting on me now. I protested and ineffectively pulled her back to me. She smiled at me in a way that said,  _‘I’m not finished yet.’_  I giggled and let my hands rub along her legs and cup the curve of her hip. “We had these little honey donuts that melt on your tongue, Em.” Andy closed her eyes and licked her lips as she thought of it. I’ve long thought that food could substitute for sex with Andy, but tonight was proof positive. I could feel her sex getting wet on my skin. “Then we had soup that was tangy with lemon, but sweet.” Andy rubbed her palms on my breasts in circles and smiled down at me. “It was warm on my tongue like you.” I moaned a little and bent my legs up behind her.  
  
“Andy, kiss me, baby.” I asked of her.  
  
“Not yet, Em.” Andy said as she rotated her hips smearing her juices on my body. “Don’t you want to know how hungry my tongue was as it toyed with the meat and veggies on the skewer?” She leaned down and kissed me, demonstrating as her tongue swirled around mine and licked the inside of my mouth. I arched up into her as my arms circled around her. She pulled back and away. “That was nothing compared to the way the baklava melted on my tongue.” She moaned and let her fingers dip down to her sex drawing the moisture up and around her clit. Mine was aching for attention as I lay under her unable to take any relief.   
  
“I couldn’t help it, but I kept licking my fingers and thinking of you, baby.” With fingertips shining in the bedroom light she painted her rosy nipples with her juices. Then she leaned down over me letting me feast on one nipple and then the other. All the while her hips were slowly undulating over my body and I held her hips firmly with my hands. She leaned at an awkward angle and undid the mystery package. Sitting back up she pulled a small dessert with her. I closed my eyes memorizing the image and telling myself that,  _‘yes, my girlfriend and I are going to have dirty baklava sex.’_  It was not something that would have occurred to me on my own. However, like most things Andy, once I let my guard down I was shown the way—and what an orgasmic, earth shattering way it usually was.  
  
She licked at the dessert teasing me. “Andy.” I scolded her.  
  
Wickedly she took a bite and arched her back above me as she chewed and moaned into the experience. I had never known that bad table manners could be so sinfully sexy. I might have taken to eating in bed earlier in life had I realized. “The phyllo dough flaked against my tongue giving way like your sex as it opens against my tongue and lets me in.” She looked down at me—her eyes hungry. “The combination of ingredients on my tongue makes me hungry for more, just like the first taste of your sex.” Andy held the remaining bit of dessert in her teeth as she looked down at me with those seductive brown eyes. Her fingers once again trailed through her sex gathering wetness that she painted on her nipples. I bucked my hips up under her, but she just smiled behind her dessert and rode me.  
  
Leaning down once more, she let me lick the dessert to get the taste on my tongue. As soon as I opened my mouth to take a bite though it was removed. Instead she shifted and lowered her breast to me once more. I licked and sucked her juices off her skin as the honey and phyllo still coated my tongue. It was delicious. I bit down on her nipple and she rose up moaning behind the dessert. She lowered herself again offering me the sweet treat. This time I quickly took a bite and we were lip to lip. She pulled up just above me so that we were staring into each other's eyes as we chewed a mouthful of sinful pastry goodness. Swallowing simultaneously, Andy kissed me and the shared taste of baklava overloaded my senses. I felt that I had an awakening to what she was talking about. My body felt hungry for more. She lifted up and let me devour her other nipple as well before taking another languid kiss.  
  
Smiling at our mutual blissed out faces, Andy turned and lowered her sex to my face as I felt her lips and tongue descending to mine. I writhed uncontrollably as she began to eat me. I was so wet and so turned on by now that I was beside myself. Andy slowed and set a rhythm that I settled into with her. I grabbed her hips and lowered her more fully onto my face. In tandem we licked, bucked, moaned, and tasted each other fully. It was not long after that we were shaking and holding onto each other’s thighs as we rode out a strong mutual orgasm.  
  
Turning back around, Andy detoured to the bedside table once again pulling out a small piece of dessert. She took a bite and then fed one to me. Then she lay half on me and half off as she licked her fingers and mine. I kissed the top of her head savoring the tastes of her and the pastry. We fell asleep with honey on our tongues.  
  
I returned a changed woman to Runway. Had I known how changed, maybe I would have thought to try harder to hate her. Had I known that her waking me up would have caused all this trouble maybe I wouldn’t have helped her. Lord knows she would have been fired eventually on her own. I couldn’t have known how she would change me any more than I could have known that she was a beautiful swan in the first place. I couldn’t have known that her waking up my desire to be myself again would lead to this disaster.  
  
I asked for a promotion, or at least a transfer to a job that suited my interests more. I had proven myself capable and had finally put my foot down. I was in love and I was sticking to the person I was inside instead of the person I had become lost in the frenzy of Miranda’s aura.  
  
My dream job was handed to me on a silver platter with  _au jus._  
  
_Au jus_  was French like my job.  
  
I had to go to France.  
  
Andy’s job and her ideals were in New York. She had a fighting spirit and had just gotten her feathers. She had already made her stand against the world and come out fighting. She was in love and she was a beautiful person.  
  
I could have my baklava, but I could not eat it too.  
  
Part of me wondered if Miranda did it on purpose. A strange conspiracy theory part of my brain told me that Miranda was in love with Andy and miserable without her. Furthermore, that Miranda had heard Nigel and I discussing Andy, and therefore thought that she had better get me out of the way. The conspiracy part of my brain saw Miranda getting Andy great jobs without telling her and sky-rocketing her to success. Of course, my brain was wild on it and had Miranda revealed as the benefactor and Andy swept up in her arms in love.  
  
In the airport, we walked around looking at nothing and trying to not look at each other. We could have had dim sum, pizza, or hot dogs. In a back corner, we could get beef on a stick. Drawn like moths to a flame we sat on the hard-plastic stools sharing a skewer. Neither of us was particularly hungry in the moment but knew that it was time to eat—time to share our last together. In a twist of fate, the elderly man working the booth smiled and placed a piece of baklava on a napkin between us. We nodded at him and he went back to drying glasses on the far end of the counter.  
  
She walked me close to security and, clinging to minutes that were running out, I sat us in the seats watching the people go through the line. I held her to me letting my tears soak into her brown locks. Her arms tight around me held my heart and I pulled back to kiss her. Time stopped and tears didn’t matter as the world melted away from us. In that perfect moment, we were connected like two pure sparks of light—no bodies, no worries, no time and place demands on us.

 

Someone dropped a case as they walked by us shattering the moment. I checked my watch. It was time to go.  
  
She was an ugly duckling transformed into a swan. Her transformation became my own. It was time for me to leave the nest and fly away. I wondered if we would survive this. Swans mate for life, but a nesting failure has been known to break them up. Was this a nesting failure: ‘a failure to launch’ as they say?  
  
I watched her watching me all the way through security until I lost her out of sight a moment. When I could look again she was gone.  
  
On the plane green Jell-O was served in plastic tubs with peel away lids and yellow sporks wrapped in plastic with a napkin. I still tasted Andy like honey on my tongue. I muttered to myself as I struggled with the lid unable to open it. “Andy.” I set my tray aside and curled into myself.  
  
If I had been able to hate her, would I have been on my way to Paris?  
  
Would that I had known at the beginning that she was an ugly duckling instead of just ugly. Maybe I would have acted differently. Had I known that a swan would have been revealed perhaps I would have been a little less harsh. I would have tried harder to understand her earlier. I would have savored every moment of getting to know her instead of just the last bits of time as it ran out without my knowledge. I would have… Well, I guess I should concentrate on building my new nest to see if I can keep my swan, instead of wasting away the days on ‘what ifs’.  
  
**_—Fin_**

 

 

…


End file.
